


Song of Promise

by SuburbanSun



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Guitars, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Music, Past Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Post-Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28828263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: Michael’s playing guitar in the junkyard when Alex shows up, fresh off a breakup but not yet ready to talk. Maybe music is all they need tonight.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Song of Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mimm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimm/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box!

Michael flexed his fingers on the neck of the guitar, settling it more comfortably in his lap, and strummed.

He was still breaking it in. Isobel had unceremoniously dropped it off at the Airstream one day, waving off his protests by saying she’d picked it up at a thrift store on the cheap, but he knew damn well that Isobel Evans hadn’t set foot in a thrift store in years. Still, it was nice to have an instrument around again, so he’d accepted it with only minimal griping.

His eyes slipped shut, the music taking hold of him. He’d never cared much for learning songs; he just played for the sake of it, one note into the next, following the melody wherever it led. 

So he struck a dissonant chord when he heard tire tracks on gravel, the sound of someone pulling up to the junkyard. When he opened his eyes, though, the silhouette of the SUV was familiar, and he kept on playing as Alex climbed out and stepped closer to the fire outside of the Airstream.

When Alex settled into the chair next to him, Michael let his fingers still on the strings.

“Don’t stop on my account.” Alex held up a file folder, then set it on the ground next to his chair. “I just thought I’d come by with copies of those files Kyle mentioned this morning. I’m sure you can make more sense of them than I can.” 

Michael nodded slowly, a bit like bobbing his head in time to the music. He knew the files Alex meant, and he knew they weren’t at all urgent. Certainly not worthy of a late-night drop by, but it was good to see Alex anyway. It was always good to see Alex.

A few moments passed, and Michael changed keys, shifting into something that was a little softer, a little less sad.

“You sound good,” Alex remarked. “Been awhile since I’ve heard you play.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael started, eyeing him over the guitar. “I might not be open mic night material yet, but I can hold my own.” 

Alex’s brow furrowed, just a bit, and he looked down at his hands, clasped in front of him. Michael tried not to drop a note. 

“Don’t think I’ll be showing my face at open mic night for a little while,” Alex said, with a little half-smile. He looked up, meeting Michael’s eyes. “Forrest and I broke up.” 

Something traitorous bloomed in Michael’s chest, and he made an effort to keep his expression neutral, sympathetic even. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Alex shrugged, chuckling. “I’m not. It was kind of a long time coming.” 

“Thought you were only dating for, what, three months?” Michael asked, unable to resist. It had actually been closer to two months and three weeks; not like he’d counted. 

“Mm,” Alex hummed noncommittally, pursing his lips as he watched the fire flicker. He spared a glance at Michael, and raised an eyebrow. “Keep playing.”

He did. After a few moments, and another key change, he cleared his throat.

“So… you’re okay, then?” Michael asked. Comforting Alex through a breakup with someone else wasn’t exactly his preferred way to spend the night, but if Alex needed comforting, then Michael wanted to be there for him. He needed to be there for him.

Alex smiled. “Yeah. Very.”

Michael nodded slowly, solemnly. He didn’t want to push it, but… “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Before answering, Alex blew out a long breath, his gaze drifting back to the fire. “Honestly? Right now, I just want to sit here by the fire and listen to you play guitar.” 

If nothing else, Michael knew he could give him that. His fingers kept moving over the strings, coaxing out sounds that had always given him comfort, quieted the chaos in his head.

“But—” Alex began, after some time had passed. “Maybe tomorrow— tomorrow we could talk.” 

From his tone, Michael knew he didn’t just mean to talk about what had happened with Forrest. He felt a frisson of hope run through his body as his arm kept gently strumming.

“Yeah?” 

Alex met his eyes. “Yeah.”

Michael let out a long breath, a lazy smile starting to form on his face. “Well. I’ll be here.”

“Good. That’s good.” 

After another second of eye contact that burned up something deep in Michael’s belly, Alex let his head fall back, taking in the whole of the night sky. Michael decided that maybe that was enough of a promise for tonight. As he kept playing— no song in particular, just plucking out a bright melody, something warm and light and hopeful yet still so familiar— he floated a couple of beers out of the cooler at his feet, sending one Alex’s way and nestling one in the dirt at his feet.

The song was far from over; there was plenty of melody left to play.


End file.
